


Vanilla Cinnamon (You're Everything I Need)

by Fukurujoshi



Series: Protect the Maknae [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Oh Sehun-centric, Sleepy Cuddles, also xiuchen, hints of kaisoo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 14:56:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12390396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fukurujoshi/pseuds/Fukurujoshi
Summary: In which Sehun just needs to feel small sometimes, and Chanyeol knows exactly how to help.





	Vanilla Cinnamon (You're Everything I Need)

It creeps up on Sehun slowly, and then all at once.

He’s fine at first, a little proud of how he’s managed to hold himself together against the uneasy feeling that’s been gradually taking root in his mind all day, his head resting heavy on Chanyeol’s shoulder. They’re all bundled into the van, sore and weary after a whole day of practice.

Up the front, Junmyeon is chatting amicably with their driver, probably the most awake of them all. Behind him, Jongdae has made himself fully at home on Minseok’s lap, arms and legs wrapped around him and snuggled to his chest like a cat.

Jongin and Kyungsoo are talking in quiet whispers, knees touching as they turn into each other, both too tired to hide the overwhelming affection they usually attempt to smother with playful banter and insults. Sehun looks away as Jongin leans in to put his forehead on Kyungsoo’s, both their eyes slipping closed in content.

There’s a gap, a spare seat where Yixing should be, but he’s in China working on his own promotions. He’ll miss this comeback. Sehun still gets sad about it sometimes, when he wanders out into the kitchen in the middle of the night and habitually makes two mugs of cocoa, only to realise that Yixing is in another country.

There’s always an extra strong pull to the door next to his own on nights like that, when he’s sad and sleepy enough to want nothing more than to feel small and protected. Usually he can resist it, instead bottling up the tightness in his chest and shoving it away until he has enough time and space to curl up in his bed and _feel_ for a few hours, but tonight Sehun’s not sure if he’ll be able to do that.

In the back seat, Sehun has his customary place in the middle, Baekhyun to his right and Chanyeol to his left. Baekhyun dozed off soon after they started driving, fingers tangled with Sehun’s and breath puffing softly against his collarbones from where his head fell against Sehun’s shoulder.

He’s used to Baekhyun sleeping on him – during trainee days when their dorm was much smaller it was commonplace for Sehun to wake up in the morning only to find himself being used as a pillow for his puppy-like hyung. Baekhyun, they’d all come to realise, needs physical contact almost as much as he needs air to breathe. Sehun, while not as obvious in his want for affection, and almost never initiating it, is very happy to indulge him.

But with how small and seemingly delicate Baekhyun is, Sehun’s always taken on the unofficial role of protector. It’s not as weird as one would think, even though he’s the youngest. His height and ability to stay silent has made him something of a magnet for whenever one of the members needs a hug. Sehun was surprised at first, that they didn’t go to Chanyeol, but Jongdae once explained that with Sehun they all had the added benefit of feeling like they were taking care of him, not just being comforted themselves.

Sehun doesn’t really understand, but he gets hugged enough to sate the constant whining voice in the back of his head begging for attention. He supposes what also plays a part is the fact that Sehun is a neutral party in whatever relationship mess has decided to explode that day.

Sometimes though, what Sehun really needs is to feel small. It’s hard playing the protector when everything inside him is screaming that _no, this isn’t what he needs_ , when everything seems so very overwhelming and no one seems to remember that Sehun is the youngest, and that despite appearing silent and emotionless, playing perfectly into the mask their company has given him, Sehun feels and worries so deeply that sometimes all he wants is to curl up in a ball and cry.

 

Next to him, Chanyeol shifts slightly, pulling out his earbuds. Sehun’s head slips, close to falling off Chanyeol’s shoulder and into his lap, but a large, warm hand catches it before that can happen.

He repositions Sehun’s head on his shoulder so it’s stable, and Sehun is preparing himself for how empty he’ll feel when Chanyeol’s hand disappears, but it doesn’t. Instead, it starts threading through his hair, tugging lightly at soft strands of recently dyed hair.

If Sehun was a cat, he’d be purring.

Chanyeol’s hand slips lower, so his fingertips play lightly with the short strands of hair at the nape of Sehun’s neck. Tension he didn’t know he was carrying slips away, and Sehun can feel himself becoming boneless under Chanyeol’s ministrations. Chanyeol starts humming, a low, soft melody that weaves through the haze and makes it heavier, a comforting weight pressing down on him.

And Sehun is fine, until he isn’t.

It starts as a prickle in his nose, behind his eyes, almost like he’s going to sneeze. But then all of a sudden there’s a lead weight in his chest, sinking deep and painful, the last thin shreds of Sehun’s desperately tight rein on his emotions slipping away in time with Chanyeol’s fingers through his hair.

Sehun can feel it, feel himself drowning, knows he’s going to start crying soon, but oh god he doesn’t want to, not with everyone here. So he does the only thing he can think of to put off the inevitable, and clutches Chanyeol’s shirt even tighter, moving his head so his face is pressed right against Chanyeol’s pulse, nose buried in his neck.

He can feel himself shaking, tiny little tremors that start in his chest and radiate outwards, and he knows Chanyeol can feel them too, from the way his hand cups Sehun’s nape, squeezing slightly, warm and comforting and possessive in all the ways Sehun needs him to be.

The van swerves suddenly around a corner and Sehun barely registers the driver (with help from Junmyeon) swearing viciously, because the turn was sharp enough to dislodge Baekhyun, pliant and sleeping deeply enough that his head knocking against the window didn’t disturb him at all.

Sehun is thankful, so very thankful that Chanyeol seems to understand what he needs, the way he always does, and almost starts crying just from relief when Chanyeol’s arms wrap around his waist and lift him into his lap. The arms get tighter once he’s settled, and Sehun’s come up to wrap around Chanyeol too, burrowing deeper into his neck and the soft vanilla cinnamon scent that to Sehun screams _home_.

He relaxes, and the inevitable happens. Sehun tenses up as the first tears fall, hot and painful, tired eyes rubbed raw in exhaustion begging to be closed. He obeys.

Sehun sinks deeper, melting into Chanyeol as a large, warm palm slips under his shirt and starts rubbing the dip of his spine, thumb creating smaller, heavier circles just below. The tears flow faster, soaking a patch on Chanyeol’s shirt, and Sehun mumbles a broken apology into the damp skin of his neck.

Chanyeol just hugs him tighter, pulls him in closer, until the space between them is non-existent, and Chanyeol’s mouth is right next to his ear, whispering sweet nothings and comforting words in that liquid, dark chocolate voice reserved especially for when Sehun is at his lowest.

In the warmth and the unexplainable sadness, Sehun lets oblivion drag him away.

 

Unfortunately, when Sehun next wakes up, the lead weight hasn’t disappeared. A touch lighter maybe, but still there, still heavy enough to make his chest go tight.

It’s bright, a yellow-white glow that tells Sehun they’re back in the dorm, but he’s cried long enough that a headache is starting to throb at his temple, and Sehun whimpers involuntarily at the pain.

Familiar arms tighten at the sound, one high around his waist and the other under his knees, and it’s with a jolt that Sehun realises he’s being carried. Burying his face into a soft shirt, vanilla cinnamon and something _Chanyeol_ helps to block out the light and the sound of hushed voices.

Junmyeon, Sehun realises. Chanyeol is talking to Junmyeon. He catches wisps of the quiet conversation, things like _please, hyung_ and _Baekhyun can move_ and _he needs this, let me take care of him_ , shards that don’t really make sense out of context but Sehun doesn’t mind, content with trying to ignore the lead weight by smothering all his senses with Chanyeol.

He’s low this time, he registers vaguely, really low. Sehun doesn’t usually drop like this, usually conscious enough of his own needs to seek out Chanyeol before he breaks, but they’ve been so busy and Sehun has barely had time to _think_ , let alone worry about something that is normally fixed so easily.

But his negligence backfired this time, and Sehun doesn’t think he’s been this low in years. It hurts so badly, the weight in his chest deep and raw and aching.

He’s jostled a bit as Chanyeol moves, apparently finished his conversation with Junmyeon, and Sehun doesn’t really care where he’s being taken as long as it's dark and warm and Chanyeol doesn’t let go.

It’s a pleasant surprise when they go through a door into a room which isn’t the one Sehun shares with Junmyeon. It must be Chanyeol and Baekhyun’s, Sehun realises, because it smells like vanilla cinnamon mixed with peaches and cream and faintly of sweat, like everywhere in their dorm does - except for the kitchen and Minseok, Jongdae and Yixing’s room, because Minseok is a self-declared clean freak.

Sehun is deposited on Chanyeol’s bed, whining when he’s stopped from sliding under the covers. Gently, Chanyeol takes off Sehun’s shirt and sweatpants, leaving him in boxers, before doing the same to himself.

 _Then_ Sehun is allowed to get under the covers, lying on his side facing the wall until Chanyeol slips in behind him. An arm slips under Sehun’s waist, the other coming to rest of top of it, and Sehun’s hands link with Chanyeol’s until he can’t really tell whose fingers are whose.

All he knows is that Chanyeol is so, _so_ warm against his back, moulded to him tightly, and Sehun curls deeper into him, threading an ankle between Chanyeol’s.

He sighs, too numb and too sore to cry, but his chest still aches and Sehun frowns, because normally he would be okay by now, would be able to put his mask back on and not feel like falling apart after Chanyeol has spent so much time giving him what he needs.

Sehun feels so guilty now, the weight abruptly sinking deeper, because Chanyeol shouldn’t _have_ to deal with him like this, as low as he is, as low as he’s made himself drop, because it's _his fault_. It’s Sehun’s fault for not recognising what he needs, not approaching Chanyeol sooner.

He feels Chanyeol sigh, heavy and bone tired into his hair, and actually, maybe Sehun _can_ cry after all. Because as much as he needs this, needs to feel small, feel protected, feel owned, the last thing he wants is to hurt Chanyeol. And that’s what he’s doing.

Sehun knows Chanyeol can feel him getting worked up, but he’s too far gone in the guilt to try and stop tensing up, breath hitching as he shoves his face into a pillow. But Chanyeol understands, the way he always does, the way only he seems to be able to, and doesn’t let go when Sehun tries to wriggle out of his grasp.

It hurts more than the ache in his chest, trying to pull away from Chanyeol, but it gets worse when Sehun realises that Chanyeol understands even more than Sehun thought he did, flipping him around and pulling him close, so very, very close, so that Sehun is pressed into his chest just as he starts crying.

Sehun is tired, so tired of crying, but he can’t stop, especially now that he’s dropped lower than before, lower than he should ever go, but maybe it’s okay because Chanyeol _understands_.

Sehun presses tight up against him, legs tangling and nose going to the dip of his collarbones as that dark chocolate voice starts up again, low vibrations thrumming against Sehun’s chest as Chanyeol leans down, nuzzles against Sehun’s hair and murmurs to him, gentle reminders and comfort that Sehun doesn’t really think he deserves.

 _You’re okay._  
  
_You’re fine._

 _You haven’t done anything wrong_ .

Sehun can only press closer, curl tighter, whisper endless apologies and gratitude into Chanyeol’s chest.

And slowly, gradually, Sehun can feel the weight beginning to lighten.

Chanyeol doesn’t stop, wrapping around Sehun until it wouldn’t be a surprise if they morphed into one human being, so warm and so protective, deeper affection threading into those gentle murmurs that change just a little as Sehun slips lower into sleep-haze.

 _You’re perfect._  
  
_I love you._

Sehun goes soft, body becoming pliant when one of Chanyeol’s hands comes up to cup his nape, gently possessive, like he did in the van.

The darkness that takes him is warm, this time, and it smells of vanilla and cinnamon and Chanyeol and protection and ownership and everything Sehun needs, and he tries to say this, tries to thank Chanyeol with words he can’t form when he’s this tired.

But what comes out is even better, Sehun decides, so he surrenders to sleep gladly, the last syllables of everything he needs Chanyeol to hear curling around his tongue.

 

 _I love you too_.


End file.
